


Winter Chill

by TheGirlWithTheRedBalloon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Teenlock, and kissing, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithTheRedBalloon/pseuds/TheGirlWithTheRedBalloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock after a Holmes' family christmas party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I thought in my boring college Math class a week or so ago. Seriously, that class is so easy, a toddler could do it.

John woke up to a soft grey light pouring from the bedroom window. He tried to breathe in the crisp air but was greeted with a few strands of dark, curly hair instead. He glanced down at his chest to find a sleeping Sherlock resting on top of him. Right, John thought, Sherlock's room. John smiled to himself as he slowly remembered what had transpired the previous evening. It was the Holmes family's annual Christmas Eve party and John hadn't needed to be invited after all this time of knowing Sherlock. The Holmes' knew that the only way for their son to be amicable was to have John Watson at his side. He'd arrived an hour early as per usual and then party started shortly after.

Halfway through the event, Sherlock declared he was bored. So, John had prepared himself for the imminent onslaught of complaints. But they never came. Instead, Sherlock reached out and took John's hand. The contact made him shiver and sent sparks to every part of his body. Before he could protest, John was tugged around a corner and pulled extremely close to his best friend, who was looking down at him with an unreadable expression.

"Sherlock, what in God's name are you-" He tried to ask but was cut off by a warm pair of lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, just a slow slide of lip against lip for no more than three seconds. Sherlock pulled back to look at John's face, gauging his reaction. What he saw what not what he had anticipated. John looked shocked, yes, but pleasantly so. His mouth was open and his breathing was heavy. He looked, well, aroused. His eyes made contact with Sherlock's for a fleeting moment before John's hands were in Sherlock's hair, tugging his mouth back to his. He turned them around so Sherlock was pressed against the wall and coaxed his lips open. John slipped his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and the boy moaned softly at the contact with his own.

Sherlock broke the kiss, then, but only so he could tug the other boy up the stairs to his bedroom and close the door behind them. This time it was John who found himself against a hard surface, the cold of the wood door seeping through his thin button up as Sherlock tipped his head back and invaded his mouth. Then it was a flurry of unwanted cloths and the two lost themselves in each others skin and warmth.

So that was how John found himself, still in Sherlock's room, on Christmas morning with an pleasantly sore backside and a dark haired angel in his arms. He slowly disengaged himself from the sleeping boy and lifted his body from the warmth of the bed to pull on his pants. It was colder than he'd anticipated and he tiptoed to the bathroom to wash his mouth with some water and toothpaste and to use the loo. When he returned, there was snow falling outside Sherlock's window. John padded over to watch the tiny flakes fall slowly to the ground. He was watching the descent of a particularly large snowflake when he heard a soft sound from the bed. He glance over to find Sherlock watching him, squinty-eyed and curly hair sticking up in all directions. The sight made John's heart clench and he smiled at his (boyfriend?) Sherlock. He made another soft noise, a bit more irritated this time, and held out his arms.

"Come back. Cold." That was all he said as he waited for John. John smiled again and took one of Sherlock's hands, letting himself be pulled back under the mass of blankets. Sherlock dragged John as close to his chest as he could and inhaled the boy's warm scent. "I love you." He said, a little shocked at himself for finally daring to say what he'd always known. John turned around to face him.

"What?" Sherlock huffed slightly. He knew John had heard him, the surprise was splashed across his face.

"I." Sherlock, completely out of character as John would tell him later, pecked him on the lips to accentuate his point. "Love." Kiss. "You." Another kiss, this one slightly longer than the previous two. John didn't speak for what felt like ages to Sherlock. Then a slow grin appeared on his lips as the shock melted away. John brought his hand up to Sherlock's face to stroke his pale cheek.

"I love you, too." His hand entwined itself in Sherlock's curls as John brought his lips to his again. He parted Sherlock's lips with his own and his tongue was welcomed into Sherlock's mouth with a contented sigh. Sherlock tasted like cinnamon and champagne and John tasted of mint toothpaste. They kissed until the need for oxygen was too great and they broke apart to breathe in the air in the small space between their faces. John stroked Sherlock's cheek and Sherlock traced loopy patterns into John's waist. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock."

The only response John received was Sherlock's arms tightening around his waist. Sherlock pulled him closer until there was no space left and John was tucked safely under Sherlock's chin as they both fell back to sleep in the early, winter morning light.


End file.
